Wizard's Run: The Doctor's Last War
by sparkasuar
Summary: The way I see it, monsters live in the deepest shadows and the darkest souls. They deal in secrets and lies. Monsters exist under the bed and in the closet. But the spidery fingers of a monster's hand can also grip at your head and heart like a vice. In-progress. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

A Box in the Snow

WHAM!

A crash rang through the quiet village, not that the villagers found anything unusual by it. There were often many odd noises and goings-on that they went on about their evening routines.

"Blimey." A rough, confused voice came from the blue box that just landed, rather less than gracefully, in a snow bank. "Where've I ended up now?"

The door opened and the unexpected visitor clambered out to have a look around, coming face to face with a long silver beard and the most piercing, dazzlingly blue eyes peering over the top of a pair of half-moon spectacles. "Well, I must say, that was quite an entrance." His voice was gentle, without the slightest hint of surprise. "Might I ask who you are?"

"Er... John... John Smith," said the visitor.

The man with bright blue eyes was smiling at this tourist with polite curiosity. "I am Albus Dumbledore. How nice to meet a new face. However I must say, and please forgive me if I much mistaken, but you look nothing like any John I've ever met. And I quite assure you, I've met a fair few in my time." John Smith, looking alarmed, bolted back into the blue box. "What? Oh blimey! I forgot!"

Upon finding a mirror, Smith was met with a very new, very unfamiliar face. "Well, that explains the voice." A woman was staring back through the glass. She inspected herself as though she'd never seen her reflection before. She was thin, but not peaky looking; she had curves in all the proper places and none where she shouldn't. Aside from being a woman, the first thing she noticed was her long, sleek hair. It was deeper and blacker than a raven's feathers. She was still wearing a white button up with a dark blue cardigan. The men's trousers she had on were rather loose fitting. She'd certainly have to find something else to wear. Smith moved closer to the mirror. She found she had rather soft features; she likened her new appearance to Fay Wray with no complaints. If she was going to be a woman, she might as well look fabulous. Her almond eyes were dark, deep violet with what seemed to be flecks of silver. Silver... "OH!" Smith darted back outside having completely forgotten about the old man waiting.

"Ah, John. Nice to see you again. I was starting to worry. I trust everything is well?" Dumbledore was standing in the same place as before, looking politely intrigued.

She stopped before him, rocking back and forth with the excess energy that was building up. "Oh, yes. Well, I won't pretend I'm not disappointed I'm not a ginger, _yet again_. But it might be a nice change of pace being a woman. And under the circumstances, perhaps Josephine might be a better name? You can call me Jo. Now, if you please, where am I?"

"My dear woman," Dumbledore gave a slight chuckle. This was perhaps the oddest thing to happen in recent years. "You are in Hogsmeade Village. There's a rather delightful pub up the way, if you'd like to join me for a glass of mead? Or perhaps a large brandy?"

Jo nodded with a smile and the two started to walk toward their long awaited nightcap. Dumbledore asked as they walked "What about your box? Will it be quite all right?"

"Well, she'll need to rebuild herself. She'll stay locked until she's done. I reckon she'll be just fine."


	2. Chapter 2

The Resurrected Dead

He was walking along the pavement, hunching himself against the biting wind. He had long since lost track of where and when he was, living off the streets. Well, not living so much as subsisting. He found a cemetery. It took him so long to find one. Entering the gate, he stumbled slightly. His legs were weaker than ever. _Where are they? _Why couldn't he find any of them? It was a cemetery after all; they always hid there.

He wandered for nearly an hour when he fell to his knees, unable to walk anymore. A stroke of luck! Not ten feet away, he saw it. He crawled towards it. _I have to make it._ He crawled, pulling himself with every remaining ounce of willpower he had left. "Yes! YES!"

Looking up, he saw the stone goddess he had so longed for. "Take me! Take me to where he is! Please. I need you! You're all I have. I need to destroy him. I WILL destroy him." He pleaded with the angel, the sad, weeping angel. He blinked once and the angel had moved its arm from its eyes. He blinked again and the angel had reached for him. "Oh yes! Please, please. Take me!" Sitting up on his knees, arms outstretched, he closed his eyes and waited. Everything went black and he felt like he was being pulled in every direction and folding in on himself all at once. His head was spinning on his shoulders, his arms and legs were twitching violently. It seemed like it would never end when suddenly, he landed on the drive at a very large, dark mansion.

"_Incarcerous!_"

He heard someone shout as ropes wound their way around his arms and legs. He was drifting through the air, unsupported, head lolling on his shoulders. He was too exhausted to protest. He was directed into a dining room with a long black, once handsome table. The entire mansion had once been grand, but having been the Death Eaters' headquarters for the last year and a half it had fallen into a state of disrepair. A cloud of dust threatened to engulf the unwelcome visitor when he was unceremoniously dropped in front of a man sitting at the head of the table.

"What is this?" His voice was colder than it was outside, "Dinner for my sweet Nagini?" The visitor heard strange hissing sounds and looked up. The hissing was coming from the man at the table, as if he were talking to the snake beside him. "You are in luck, it seems. Nagini is tired from her travels. I will have to kill you for her." He raised what looked like a stick, pointing it at the visitor. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

A green light shot out and hit the visitor in the chest. He doubled over. "Thank you," he whispered and fell backward. The man at the tabled hissed to his snake, "Dinner."

Before Nagini could move, however, the dead man rose into the air like a marionette. The ropes fell away. With his arms outstretched, the most blinding light shot from him. Everything was emanating from him: hope, despair, longing, contentment, desire, passion. Every emotion was coming from that light, filling the room.

In the second that seemed to last forever, nobody moved or spoke. As the light started to dim, he began to descend, alighting gracefully. He looked around the room – everyone seemed too scared to do anything, and these people didn't look easily scared. He smiled slightly, eyes wide.

"I really must thank you, again. I needed that. Oh, new voice. I always love that. Wonder what I look like now? Handsome?" He took a seat at the table, near the man who could talk to snakes, and propped his feet up. Hands behind his head, looking very relaxed he said, "Now, I'm the Master. Who are you and when am I?"


	3. Chapter 3

Lledrith

Under cover of dark, two cloaked figures exited the gates of Hogwarts and made their way into the village of Hogsmeade. They weren't so much trying to stay hidden as simply go unnoticed; being unnoticed often made things easier as there were no questions to answer later. Severus Snape, in his billowing black cloak, and the Doctor, in her deep violet, made short work of the walk.

"Oh! Hold on, will you? Just give me a mo," said the Doctor, indicating the Tardis as it came into view. She dashed inside, only to pop back out and offer Snape a cup of tea.

"You do realize we are in rather a hurry?"

"Right! Let me just... Got it!" She exited the box with a silver instrument in hand, smiling. "Sonic screwdriver. It's sonic! See?"

"I gathered. Might we press on?"

They walked on to the end of the lane and turned a corner, out of sight of the main road. Snape indicated for the Doctor to hold tightly to his arm; they Dissaparated and after a few seconds of dark and nothing, stretching, compression, swirling, and tightness, they appeared in a patch of frosty grass near a calm sea littered with stars from the sky. The Doctor dropped to her knees, gasping. Once steadily back on her feet, she breathed in the freezing, salty sea air. "Where are we?"

"Outer Hebrides. Memorize this address." Snape handed her a scrap of parchment with loopy, slanted handwriting. They had walked on for about fifteen minutes before coming to a halt at an ancient-looking blackhouse, thatched roof and all. Snape knocked at the door, announcing himself. The door creaked open to reveal a candlelit room.

Garrick Ollivander looked worn and worried, but well. "Come in. Come in," he said as he laid his eyes on the Doctor. "So, a wand, eh? This is most unusual. Magic coming to you like this. Dumbledore explained what little he could in his letter. But I must admit, I still don't quite understand."

"The less you know, sir... The headmaster and I are the only ones to know Professor Smith's story. And we should like to keep it thus," said Snape.

"Oh, don't be such a curmudgeon, Snape-a-doodle," said the Doctor with a wink. Snape scowled, but bit back a venomous retort. "I don't see why I can't answer _a few_ questions. Mr. Ollivander, what would you like to know?"

The three sat at a simple wooden table, sipping strong tea. "Gallifrey? Is that in Wales? You do sound rather welsh."

"Not quite, sir. Nice place that is, though, " said the Doctor.

"And you said you were a time traveler?" Ollivander asked with interest.

"Yes sir. But not just time. I have all of space at the tips of my fingers. Oh, the things I've seen, Mr. Ollivander. This magical world of yours is wonderful, and I know I haven't seen much of it, but the rest of the universe has a magic all its own. The beauty of the Medusa Cascade! Watching humans rebuild on New Earth in five billion years!"

Snape was becoming restless. "This is all very fascinating, but I do have essays to grade. Mr. Ollivander, would you mind finding her a wand? That is why we came here."

"Yes, yes, certainly. Though it is nice having company. It gets rather lonely being hidden," said the wandmaker with a weak smile. He bustled about his countless boxes, pulling a few here and there, setting them before the Doctor, muttering to himself all the while.

After a few nothings, sputters, and explosions, the Doctor picked up a sleek black wand. All of a sudden, purple stardust started to emerge from the end of it, swirling around her, making her seem ethereal, made of light. A smile spread wide across her face; even Snape had to quickly readjust his expression to conceal his interest.

"That is indeed odd. This is one of the more unusual wands I've ever made: ebony, unicorn hair, eleven and five-eighths inches, reasonably pliant. This wand will do wonders for you, and you will do wonders with this wand, my good lady."

A great many thanks later, the two professors Dissaparated and made their way back down the path towards the school. Nearly halfway there, the Doctor stopped dead in her tracks. "It can't be. No, no, no. It can't... it can't be. I feel it. He can't possibly be here." She was mumbling loudly, sounding scared, her expression simultaneously vacant and anxious. Snape turned to face her. She looked at him, suddenly aware.

"He's back. And he's here."


	4. Interlude: Monsters

A lot of life is dealing with your curse, dealing with the cards you were given that aren't so nice. Does it make you into a monster, or can you temper it in some way, or accept it and go in some other direction?

_-Wes Craven_

To attempt the destruction of our passions is the height of folly. What a noble aim is that of the zealot who tortures himself like a madman in order to desire nothing, love nothing, feel nothing, and who, if he succeeded, would end up a complete monster!

_-Denis Diderot_

Interlude: Monsters

_The way I see it, monsters hide in the deepest shadows and the darkest souls. They deal in secrets and lies. They are the always-have-beens and the never-weres. They are the know-it-alls who sometimes know nothing at all._

_They hide, but you always know a monster when you see one. They have fire in their eyes and ice in their hearts. It's a fleeting glimpse, and you might miss it at first. But it always lingers, just there below the surface_

_They laugh when you cry._

_Monsters are without mercy. _

_The worst, though, is when they make you believe they're gone when really, they're just lurking out of sight. They're always just around the corner. _

_ But they can be defeated. _

_ They can always be defeated._


	5. Chapter 4

_As your humble narrator, I will tell you, in no uncertain terms, these were dark times. Some of you fine readers will already know bits of what happened, scraps of information; thus, I am able to fast forward through the boring and well-known. When we last left our Doctor, she was becoming acquainted with the wizarding world and the war it was facing. It was the winter holiday when she arrived; most students knew nothing of her presence in the castle. (They noticed the big blue police box sitting in a far-off corner of the third floor, however. But none much questioned it as odd things happened often.) _

_ The Tardis crashed in HogsmeadeVillage, 3 January 1997. Dumbledore bestowed his generosity and protection until his death only few months later. The Age of Magic was upon them: Muggles were to be conquered; muggleborns were pariahs; the hierarchy was to be established and enforced. Let us rejoin the story seven months later._

Beyond the Pale

The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the Manor. A tall, slender figure made its way toward the towering mansion. The man walked through the wrought iron gates as though they were made of smoke, cloak sweeping behind him. The large, dark wooden doors opened as he approached.

"Ah, Count. Thank you for coming." Voldemort's voice hissed across the entryway as he, accompanied by the Master and Bellatrix Lestrange, greeted his old acquaintance.

Dracula stood in the foyer, regal by all accounts. His shoulder-length black hair framed his pale face. He was tall, thin, but well-defined. His face was angular, menacing, and yet defiantly charming. Penetrating, dark, deep-set eyes took in their surroundings, landing on Bellatrix and eyeing her in a most seductive way. He smiled, baring his pointed teeth, and gliding forward, kissed her hand. His eyes remained on the witch as he addressed Voldemort.

"My Lord. I thank you for the invitation," he said with a low, sultry voice; Bellatrix shuddered. They made their way to the sitting room at the Dark Lord's request. "Wormtail!" He called to the mousy servant, "Bring us a few drinks. I'm sure the Count here would enjoy our finest Muggle. Or do you prefer Mudblood, my friend?"

"I never touch it if I have the choice. Do you have something in a young blonde? Perhaps aged nine years?" Wormtail muttered indistinctly as he shuffled away, returning with a strong cabernet and a chalice of the warmest, freshest blood for the Count.

Timelord, wizard, and vampire observed the requisite niceties of men in their standing, if you could indeed call them men, before discussing the business for which they met. They had corresponded some months ago, following the death of one Albus Dumbledore, with a plan to subdue the Muggles they wished to conquer. It was Voldemort's idea to use the dementors in their service as the non-magic could not see them. The only issue with this plan was that, as plentiful and willing as the dementors were, there simply were not near enough of them to have the desired effect. The vampire, however, had a solution: his castle in Exeter was on enough land to act as a breeding ground.

"How are my children of sorrow, dear Count?"

"As resplendent as ever, my Lord. They feast heartily on the desperation from within the confines of my castle. Magic is becoming harder for the weaker to perform. They are so suppressed that even the number of witches and wizards who can perform a Patronus Charm is less than it has ever been."

The Master had been sitting quietly, apart from the others, listening intently. His voice carried from the corner, "Explain to me again, what is the point to these floaty berks? Can't you just wave your stick and mutter some words? You have magic. Bloody well use it!"

Bellatrix started and pulled out her wand. "How dare you insult my master, you insolent pig shit little alien!" She strode over to him, pinning him in his seat as she held her wand to his throat. He looked quite unperturbed, blinked once and readjusted himself in his seat.

"Bella, Bella. Sit back down. He is our guest, still rather unaccustomed to our ways. Besides, you know he cannot die. However, if he does upset me again, I shall let you cut out his tongue." She resumed her seat next to her beloved Dark Lord as he addressed the Master, "You are right. We do have magic. But if you have been paying attention to anything, you would know that the other side has magic, too. Though they are decidedly weaker than yours truly, there's still that Potter boy who has always been a thorn in my side. The more dementors there are, the harder it becomes for any wandwork. They could also flush him out of hiding should he be able to conjure his rather well-known Patronus. Anymore questions?"

The four of them sat for only a little while longer - tensions were running high and dawn was quickly approaching. Voldemort showed his guest back to the foyer with Bellatrix in their wake. The Count suavely kissed the witch's hand once more and departed.


End file.
